


I Touch With Your Permission Only

by Selly87



Series: Punishments & Pleasure [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dom Harry Potter, Dom/sub, Kneeling, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Punishment, Rule Breaking, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Draco Malfoy, timeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 23:05:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17755187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selly87/pseuds/Selly87
Summary: If I wanted a pet that never talks back, I’d get myself a fish and not Draco Malfoy.





	I Touch With Your Permission Only

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** Dear Reader, please read the tags, this is very much a _BDSM_ -themed fic and by that I don't mean light undertones but full on BDSM. In saying that, I only believe in safe, sane and consensual BDSM, so this includes safewords, safesigns and aftercare. Still, if this topic is not your cup of tea, please don't read it. I won't be offended and I will post some fluff soon (*grin*). If you are curious, I welcome you to give this story a try but I **won't** accept any flames if you don't like it.
> 
> *sigh* I'd never planned to turn this into a series. Clearly my brain does not agree. I know exactly I'm blaming for that but because he is a wonderful human being, he is going to get away with it, again.

* * *

I grab a fistful of his hair and forcefully yank his head back, force him to look at me.

He yelps and grimaces.

I know it hurts. I know it really fucking hurts.

That’s why I did it. I know exactly what it takes to get to him and I know he hates it. But the loves it more, he truly loves it. Although, if I was to ask him that right now, he would spit in my face.

I smirk. He frowns.

I don’t need to make him say the words, I can see the truth in his eyes. He loves this and he needs this.

I press my mouth to his ear.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think you’d get away with it?” I snarl and yank a little harder.

He shudders.

He knows not to answer those questions. Most of the time anyway. He does take his chances sometimes, just not when I have a fistful of his hair in my hand.

He continues to struggle and I pull harder still.

Another yelp, a strangled sort of wail, too.

_Defiant little pet._

He does it every time and never gets away with it. Still, he refuses to learn his lesson. It’s a little game he likes to play and so far, he’s been getting away with forcing my hand.

Tonight, I’m going to change things up a bit. He’s in for a surprise. Tonight, he’ll learn a lesson he’ll remember forever. Well, I’m being optimistic. He’ll remember it for a couple of months, then he’ll dip his toes back into the water.

I pull his hair again and watch him press his lips together as he stubbornly swallows a howl.

“Let it out, it’ll feel so much better,” I suggest but he merely glowers at me.

_Fine, have it your way. You’ll be screaming, begging me for mercy before the night is over. You always do and you know it. I’m not falling for your little tricks anymore. I never did in the first place. I just indulged you. But not this time. Tonight, you’re not getting what you want. Tonight, you’re getting what you deserve._

He continues to struggle and this time I yank so hard that he’s forced to arch his back.

“Be still,” I warn him but he doesn’t heed my advice.

He stubbornly struggles and I give him a pointed look. A wandless _Stunner_ later he finds himself on his back on the ground with me towering over him.

“That’s what you get,” I laugh and he glares daggers at me. It’s about all he can do.

I drop down on one knee beside him and gently caress his cheek and run my fingers through his hair to massage his scalp.

His eyes widen. He didn’t expect the gentle touch.

Then again, he didn’t expect the _Stunner_ either.

I could have forced him to the ground without the use of magic. I could have forced him to kneel, too. But I’d much rather he kneels because he wants to and not because I make him. He knows it. It just usually takes him a while to remember that.

“You’re way too uncooperative, I don’t want to play with you, I don’t even want to be in the same room with you,” I tell him and his eyes widen again. I continue to massage his scalp for a few moments, then return to caressing his cheek.

“I think we both know you need a bit of time to think, to calm down. That _Stunner_ is going to wear off in about an hour and until it does, you’re just going to lie here and think, long and hard, about how mouthy you’ve been this morning when all I did was to ask you a simple question.”

He looks positively terrified of the prospect of having to lie here for an hour and I chuckle. I conjure a squishy red ball and focusing my magic, I release his right hand from the _Stunner_ spell. I place the ball in his hand and his fingers automatically curl around it but he doesn’t squeeze it. He knows what it does. I explain it to him anyway.

“If it gets too much, squeeze and I’ll release you,” I soften my voice. He blinks to tell me he understood. One blink, _yes_.

I caress his cheek one last time, get to my feet and without as much as a backward glance, I leave him lying on the living room rug and exit the room.

I spend the next hour in my study, working through a pile of boring case files.

He never squeezes the ball. I didn’t think he would but I don’t like taking chances. He could just as well panic and then what?

I couldn’t live with myself if something bad happened to him.

No, we play safe, _always_.

Even with his penchant for rule breaking and forcing my hand, he knows not to break _that_ rule.

The golden rule.

The one that makes our relationship possible, the one that makes it work. The reason he puts all his trust in me and why he surrenders to me, completely and without question.

Except, of course, when he’s feeling bratty or sassy. Then it takes a little more to get him to submit. But I always get him there. I know all the right buttons to push.

As I make my way back into the living room, I summon his collar. It flies straight into my hand and I clasp my fingers around the soft well-worn leather. He’s had this one for years, it’s his favourite and I’m nothing if not obliging.

My little pet always gets what he wants.

Well, within reason.

I head over to the couch and give him a few more minutes to recover from the _Stunner_ , then watch as he gingerly gets on all fours and crawls over to me.

“Aww, and I didn’t even have to ask. What a good boy,” I praise him and as he kneels at my feet with his head lowered and his arms behind his back, I run my fingers gently through his hair.

He purrs and I slip the collar around his neck and fasten it in place, then grab his chin and make him look at me.

“Ready to talk?” I ask and he nods.

“Yes, Harry,” he says softly and blinks.

An hour left to his own devices with no way no move has done wonders to his bratty character. It’s all but dissipated. What’s left is a very different person, one only I get to see.

He doesn’t like it when I ignore him like that, when I leave the room and force him to think about his ill-advised actions that usually get him into a pickle in the first place. Sure, I made him kneel in a corner before or stand facing the wall for an hour, but up until today I never used a _Stunner_ on him. I wonder if his forced timeout did what it was supposed to do.

_Let’s find out._

“Well, then, tell me, are you allowed to touch yourself? Are you allowed to masturbate when I’m not around?”

“Yes, Harry,” he whispers and I force his chin up a little higher.

“But?” I ask.

“I must ask for permission first.”

“And did you? Did you ask for permission?”

“No, Harry, no, I did not.”

“And what did you say to my face when I asked you about it earlier?” I push and he looks uncomfortable.

He doesn’t have permission to swear whenever we stay at the cottage but every so often, he likes to do it to push my buttons. It’s in his disposition to do so. That’s just the person he is.

I sense his hesitation and know he feels bad about what he did. That’s not enough though.

He had a choice; he could have given me a sensible answer.

He did not.

He deliberately broke the rules and when he does that, he knows he will pay the price.

“Tell me, what did you say? Was it not _if you’re too fucking busy to fuck me I will fuck myself and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it_?” I ask, purposefully repeating his insult to me word for word.

He shudders and tries to look away. I don’t let him.

“Was that what you said, pet?” I push again.

“Yes,” he admits and looks at me with shame.

“Did you say those words because you wanted to hurt me? Did you want to upset me?”

“No, Harry,” he shakes his head and tries to look away again. I still don’t let him. I never let him. That would be too easy and he doesn’t deserve easy.

Tears fill his eyes and I know they will spill sooner rather than later.

“I’m disappointed, pet,” I tell him. “Those words were like a slap in the face. I know you were angry and I know I’ve neglected you a bit these last few days but that’s still not a reason to talk to me like that.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

He looks guilt-ridden and I know he feels terrible. He hates nothing more than hearing me tell him that I’m disappointed in him. It pushes his buttons in ways I couldn’t begin to describe. To know that he’s failed to please me causes him more anguish than one-hundred blows with a cane ever could.

I let him stew for a while and he squirms. I can feel his desperation to look away. Having to look me in the eye while he’s waiting for me to accept his apology; it’s torture for him.

After a minute, I absolve him. Because there’s letting him stew and there’s being unnecessarily cruel.

“Apology accepted.”

It’s hearing those two words that finally make the tears spill and I watch as thick tears slowly wet his cheeks. I get no gratification from watching him cry but I know he needs this to process. It’s his way of dealing with pain and I would never deny him that.

I am responsible for him.

Whatever he needs, that’s the deal. That’s always been the deal.

I give him a moment, then cup his face and slide my thumbs across his cheekbones to wipe away the tears.

“There now, it’s okay,” I whisper softly. “Now, let’s talk about this. Work’s been busy these last few weeks and we’ve not had time to play. I am sorry about that, but you know that I’ve not neglected you on purpose so that’s no reason to go and break the rules,” I tell him firmly and he squirms under my intense gaze.

“I know.”

“Remind me again, what’s the rule we have when it comes to masturbating?”

“I am allowed to touch myself as long as I ask permission first,” he says quietly and a faint flush colours his cheeks pink.

He looks beautiful.

“Well, well, you do know the rules. So, tell me again, did you ask for permission?”

“No, I did not.”  
  
I smirk.

“That’s true. If only you had asked, just like you did last week…” I trail off and click my tongue in disapproval. “Did I allow you to play alone last week?”

“Yes, Harry.”

I smile.

“I believe my only stipulation was that you had to show me the memory in our Pensieve, isn’t that so? I believe I even allowed you a toy. Tell me, did you have fun last week?”

“Yes, Harry, yes, I did.”

“And did you enjoy me watching that memory and getting so aroused by it that I bend you over my desk and fucked you hard? Or was that not to your liking? Because I distinctly remember you even said _thank you_ afterwards. Or did I dream that?”

I’m shamelessly goading him now and he knows it. His blush intensifies and he looks ashamed. He squirms again but I’ve got his face in my hands and he can’t turn away. He could close his eyes but I know he won’t dare to do that. He doesn’t have permission to look away and while that doesn’t stop him from trying, he knows better than to upset me any further.

“If only you had asked, hm? I would have made the same stipulation as last week and since we’re spending the weekend at the cottage, I think you would have gotten more than a hurried fuck over the top of my desk. Proper playtime. Isn’t that what you’ve been so sorely missing? But you had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”

He’s looking positively troubled now. We’re at the cottage and I’m threatening to cancel playtime.

_The prospect of no playtime at all, it blows, doesn’t it, pet?_

It also has the desired effect of making him ruefully regret his actions. He’ll remember this for next time. He won’t remember it forever, he’s too full of sass for that, but he’ll be good for a while at least. And that is good enough for me.

_If I wanted a pet that never talks back, I’d get myself a fish and not Draco Malfoy._

The thought makes me want to snicker but I suppress the urge.

“Please don’t cancel playtime,” he whispers.

He sounds miserable.

_Good._

“Ah, but if I don’t, I’ll just be rewarding bad behaviour, don’t you think so?” I ask.

“Please, no,” he tries to shake his head. “Please.”

“But you’ve been naughty. You played without my permission, you even came without my permission and then you tried to keep it from me. Also, since when do we negotiate about punishments?”

“I—” he starts but trails off and sighs. He looks subdued.

“Good pet, you know not to negotiate about things you have no control over.” I praise him and then bite back a smirk and wait. I know what’s coming next.

“I promise I’ll be really good.”

_Well, now you’re just being desperate, my love._

There. I knew he wouldn’t be able to let it go. I knew he’d try and negotiate anyway. That’s just the way he is.

“You’re trying to negotiate again. In my book that’s not being good,” I reprimand him and let go of his face. I run my fingers through his hair and massage his scalp for a while, then pull away and sit back on the sofa.

He immediately lowers his head and I watch as he shuffles into a different kind of kneeling position. He spreads his thighs to the degree that it’s uncomfortable. He keeps his head lowered and his hands behind his back and this time I don’t bite that back that smirk.

He wants playtime, wants it badly.

Well, let’s see exactly how badly he wants it. I have the patience of a saint, but does he?

I watch him for a while but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

_Good pet._

I let several minutes pass, then move forward and gently cup his chin. I force it up and our eyes meet.  
  
“I accept,” I tell him softly, then press a kiss to his lips. He takes the kiss and when I pull away and let go of his chin, he lowers his head once more.

Very well, if he wants to kneel until I decide that he’s learnt his lesson, who am I to refuse him?

I get comfortable on the sofa and summon the TV remote. It’s been a long week and I just want to relax for a couple of hours with some pointless soap opera or some silly quiz show.


End file.
